Kijani was present in the War Room like so many others. It had been a requirement, after all. However, as soon as she heard the ginger in the horribly clashing costume open his mouth and start berating the team in general, her ears shut off. It wasn't her fault she was working with a bunch of amatuers. Certainly that was the fault of those who were supposed to teach them, wasn't it?

If she had to be present, fine. But that didn't mean she had to be lumped in with the children. She found an unoccupied corner and retrieved a book from her back pocket. Then she leaned against the wall and started reading. The library here was quite good, but she could feel some of her language skills getting stale. No sense in wasting time. Reading in other langauages always got her brain going. Soon she was deeply involved in re-reading an excellent Russian translation of The Silmarillion, and ignoring everyone around her.

Midway through a mock battle between Grapedrink Punch Girl and American Ninja Warrior, she found space to use the digitizer. She left her shoes outside the machine - they were far too expensive to be atomized - and stepped in. Seconds later, she was out again, dressed in a brand new suit. The suit itself was lightweight. She liked how it flexed when she walked. The shoes were interesting as well. Snug like sneakers, but more like pointe shoes at the toe. Obviously they would need to be properly broken in. The colors were nice - brilliant crimson, with a rich gold. The material would take some getting used to, though.

All it lacked was a symbol. There wasn't even the "T" that some of the older members sported. It made sense - she was still on the fence about this hero business. If not for Cyborg, she would have been long gone.

By the time she was done checking herself out, Arsenal was making a last call for fighters in the War Room. She might as well see if any of these kids had any talent. So far, the only one she'd seen that was worth watching was Apparition, or Arina. And Kijani wouldn't dare say that out loud. It would go straight to that snobby bitch's head.

"Fine. I'll go. One side, brats." She strode forward, and whoever was in her path would need to move or get checked.